Daughter of Eve
by LadyAlambiel
Summary: When the Daughter of Eve sought out Aslan, would He grant what she desired or maybe even more?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: When the Daughter of Eve sought out Aslan, would He grant what she desired or maybe even more?

A/N: This story was requested by Scribe of Heroes and is part of my _A Light in the Darkness_ universe. This story is based on the suggestion for an expansion on the encounter between the Daughter of Eve and Aslan at the Stone Table originally described in _A Light in the Darkness: Veiled_. Enjoy!

**Daughter of Eve**

**Part One: To Narnia**

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

"Naomi."

She flinched when Bar touched her back as the constant pain multiplied and threatened to bring her to her knees. But she couldn't fall again. She could not bear to have another bone break and the increasingly long recovery. Naomi looked into the polished mirror and cringed inside at how old she looked compared to Bar. Her husband was still the virile epitome of manhood at but six and thirty. Only the worry in his grey eyes marred his handsome face. She was thirty but to look in the mirror, to look at her lank mousy brown hair that had lost all its luster and thickness over the last four years, at her sallow complexion and sunken cheeks and how her fine dress hung like a sack on her emaciated frame, one would think she was Bar's grandmother. She was nothing like the girl Bar had wed twelve years earlier. Why did he stay with her? He could have cited her wasting sickness and the lack of children as reason to break their marriage vows and cast her off without fear of ostracism. But he still stayed.

There was nothing left that could be done. That is what she had heard the healers tell Bar when they all thought her caught in an exhausted sleep last week. But the pain kept her awake and stole her breath constantly. And she had heard them declare that this twelfth year of pain would be her last. It had begun so slowly at first, an odd lingering pain along her spine and hips, but she had thought nothing of it. Now she could not escape thinking of it for it permeated her every breath. She should be grateful to escape the pain, but she had seen the way Bar collapsed to his knees after the healers left. She had seen his broad shoulders curve in as he begged the Great Lion to tell him why this had happened, why his prayers had gone unanswered. She did not want to leave him.

"Naomi?"

She held out the letter from her cousin Elisabet. Bar took it. His grey eyes slowly rose to meet hers. "It is too far. The healers have said you are not to travel even as far as Anvard. Why would you travel to Narnia?"

"Because He is there." Naomi rested a bony hand on his arm. "I must see Him. He has come and I must go there."

"No. I will find another healer for you. It is said that the Calormenes have made strides in curing the wasting sicknesses. I will seek one of them out. Or perhaps a healer from Narnia, Sootwing or Asclepius, they are great healers and do not hesitate visit the border villages as your cousin can attest. Surely venturing further into Archenland would be no hardship for them. Let me send to them as well."

"Bar." Naomi paused then continued gently, "You have already summoned the very healers who tend the King and his family. They all say the same. There is no more hope from the healers. I must go to Aslan. Perhaps He will not heal me but at least I can ask Him to not let you suffer. To help you to love again, to love ano-"

"No!" Bar's harsh tone softened as soon as he carefully cupped her sunken cheek. "No. I do not regret these twelve years we've had together. All I regret is that I have failed to find a solution for this sickness that steals you from me, lass. I care not if I must sell another ten head of my war horse stock, I will find a healer to save you."

Tears filled Naomi's eyes as she recalled the fine young yearlings Bar had sold to pay the healers. How could he bear to sell off his father's legacy? Their small horse farm was on the verge of failing if he continued to sell the horses meant to be trained as chargers for knights…all for her miserable sake. "Bar. I must go to Him. In Narnia."

Her husband took her frail, bony hand and cradled it as gently as if she were made of eggshell. There was grief in his eyes. "I cannot accompany you, lass. Danin is coming to inspect the dun. But, I will send for your cousin Elisabet to send her nephews to drive you by wagon into Narnia. I will ensure it is the best sprung wagon of the lot as well."

True to his word, Bar created the most comfortable bed in the back of the wagon. Pillows and comforters and coverlets all stuffed with the softest eiderdown to ease the battering of the road. And his finest pair of heavy draught horses whose footing was as steady as the mountain goats. Naomi pretended not to see the despair written across the uncharacteristic slump of his shoulders when the healers shook their heads. Their warnings were dire. If she went to Narnia, she would not survive the journey home even should she, by some miracle, survive the first leg of the journey. Bar lifted her from their bed and carried her to the wagon, gently placing her on the soft makeshift bed. Ignoring the little stifled gasps of shock from the teenage nephews of her cousin, Bar tucked the coverlets over her and then brushed a light kiss against her forehead. "I love you, Naomi."

Naomi closed her eyes against fresh tears. "Bar." She tried to say more but a harsh cough stole the words she so wanted to speak.

Her husband brushed the tears from her cheeks with a gentle tenderness then he nodded. "I know, lass. I know."

A moment later, he stepped back and nodded to the young men. They chirped to the horses and the wagon lurched into motion. Naomi pretended the movement didn't send a hot lance of pain through her. She watched until the house and the man standing beside the paddock finally passed out of sight. Then and only then did Naomi close her eyes. She did not know if she would survive the journey but if not, she prayed that the Great Lion would bring him a woman who would love him as completely as he deserved. And a woman who would be able to give him the children so long denied to him.

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

**A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: When the Daughter of Eve sought out Aslan, would He grant what she desired or maybe even more?

A/N: This story was requested by Scribe of Heroes and is part of my _A Light in the Darkness_ universe. This story is based on the suggestion for an expansion on the encounter between the Daughter of Eve and Aslan at the Stone Table originally described in _A Light in the Darkness: Veiled_. Enjoy!

**Daughter of Eve**

**Part Two: In Aslan's Presence**

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

"Cousin Naomi?"

The whisper came in a hushed tone that was barely heard above the cheerful and hopeful murmurs of what sounded like a thousand voices or more. Naomi wearily opened her eyes but it was not her cousin's sons who peered down at her. She started then a little gasp escaped as the constant pain sharpened with her movement.

"My apologies, Lady, I did not mean to startle you." A Centaur with kind brown eyes and hair as red as his flowing beard looked down at her. He gestured to her cousin's eldest son. "The colts were worried they could not move you safely. You are here to see the Great Lion, are you not?"

"Yes," Naomi whispered. "I wanted to see Him. He heals those beyond healers' aid, does He not?"

The Centaur nodded, his gaze still kind and not the least judgmental even though Naomi herself suddenly felt foolish and wholly unworthy of her mad scheme. Truly there were others present who deserved the Great Lion's healing more than she. She dared not approach Him as she had originally imagined.

"My sons and I can carry you to the Stone Table. That is where those in need of healing gather."

"No," she whispered. "No, I would just like to hear Him speak."

The Centaur studied her, his brown eyes still kind though Naomi could not help but feel he saw her unworthiness. She was human, born and raised in Archenland, he was Narnian. He belonged and she did not. She had been party to anger, avarice, even lust, deceitfulness, and all other manners of wrongdoing in the course of her life. She had harbored those feelings, those wicked thoughts and sometimes wicked words or deeds, she was ashamed to admit. No, she was not worthy to go to the Great Lion and request His special healing. She had been driven here by the pain and by her love for Bar.

Oh Bar. Her thoughts turned once again to her husband, to the despair he had tried to hide from her when he stepped back from the wagon. He believed the healers' dire warnings, that she would not come back to him alive. If she perished so be it, but she would ask for the Great Lion's blessing on her poor husband. On the man who had loved her for twelve years despite her deterioration.

Pain jolted her from her thoughts and a weak cry escaped her. Looking up she met the contrite gaze of another Centaur, this one she thought was younger as he lacked any beard and seemed smaller than the previous Centaur, though he shared his coloring.

"Lift together. She is very weak and cannot tolerate much more pain." The soft command came in a voice too mellifluous to be male. Naomi followed the younger Centaur's gaze to see a Centauress with midnight black hair and wisdom in her grey eyes. "Does she go to Stone Table?"

"No," Naomi whispered, feeling her shame and unworthiness anew.

The Centaur who had first spoken, the patriarch of the small group if she judged rightly, nodded. "It seems the lady wishes only to hear our Lord Aslan speak instead of asking for her physical healing."

The Centauress looked at her. "An interesting decision. However, I do not think it wise for you to be without a healer's care. You shall listen to the Great Lion in our company where I may tend you."

The elder Centaur smiled almost indulgently. "Very well. Now, my sons, lift together or your dam shall take it out of my hide."

Naomi had to concede to a wan smile as the younger Centaurs (there were four of them) chuckled and then they worked with exceeding care to lift her sick bed out of the wagon. They didn't even permit a single pillow to fall to the ground. The crowd of Magical Creatures, Talking Beasts, and humans cleared a path without murmuring resentments. All around her seemed preoccupied with the excitement, the wonder, and the awe of seeing Aslan Himself. It was crowded but there was order too. Those who came to Aslan for healing were being helped to the crown of the hill.

She looked up as the Centaurs stopped, seeing again the dark-haired Centauress and beside her stood two very young fillies, eyes wide as they watched and their hands clasped together while the one nearest the healer clung to her hand as well. Naomi glanced at the patriarch and whispered, "You are blessed, sir."

The Centaur looked down at her, a smile splitting his beard. "I am indeed."

They settled her with care on the side of the hill and adjusted her pillows so she could lie propped up enough to see the crest. Her cousin's sons came to check on her but she could see they were feeling restless and perhaps a trifle shy of the Centaurs. With a whispered word, she bade them to walk around and see what they may. Had her gaze not already been fixed on the hilltop, perhaps she would have felt hurt and even a little ashamed at the relief that appeared in the young men's eyes when they were finally permitted to leave her company. But even if she had seen it, Naomi would not have faulted them. They were unused to illness as severe as hers and, for young men who had yet to reach their prime, it was an uncomfortable trial to have such a stark reminder of their own mortality constantly with them.

The Centauress took her wrist between gentle fingers, measuring her pulse. Then grey eyes assessed her again. "One of the wasting sicknesses?"

Naomi nodded. "It is in my bones. I have had it for twelve years."

A delicate brow rose. "And you will not go to Aslan for healing?"

"I cannot." Naomi looked away, closing her eyes, as she battled her shame. She did not belong here. Why had she dared to leave her bed? Why had she come here instead of cherishing the last days remaining to her in Bar's company? She was not even certain if she dared to speak to Aslan now, even for Bar's sake. Yet . . .

"My lady?"

She looked up suddenly and met the concerned gaze of a young man. His dark hair fell about his face in unruly curls that put her in mind of a boy but there was enough wisdom in his dark gaze that betrayed he was at least in his mid-twenties. Naomi glanced uncertainly at the Centaurs but then whispered, "Yes?"

"Are you certain you do not wish to be at the Stone Table? I can find a place for you there."

She blushed, wondering why she was being asked yet again. "No, sir, though I thank you for your kindness. I am content to stay here."

He looked at the Centaurs in such a way that she knew he had been warned of her past refusals. And yet he had offered again. Why? Why did they care if she went for healing or not?

The man nodded. "As you wish, Lady Naomi." He paused, still crouched beside her, and then smiled. "However, do not despair of speaking to Aslan. When He has finished speaking to all of us, He will make the time to speak to any and all who desire to speak to Him. And you are in excellent hands with Lady Moonstar. She is one of the foremost healers in all Narnia."

Naomi nodded, barely hearing as the young man parted ways with the Centaurs, but still she observed him moving through the crowd, pausing here and there to talk to many from the Centaurs all the way down to little Squirrels and Chipmunks and Moles. She looked at Lady Moonstar. "Who was that?"

The Centauress smiled. "Our next king."

Naomi's eyes widened with dismay. She had ignored a prince. No, she had ignored the crown prince of Narnia and not even offered him the courtesy of her full attention. What would Bar say when he learned of that? "I gave offense."

"Nonsense," countered Moonstar's husband. "The Crown Prince does not take offense easily and he could see you are ill, lady. Do not fret."

She hesitated, wanting to argue but not having the strength to do so. She was so weary now, wearier than she had been when she left Archenland. She did not remember sleeping but woke to find Moonstar beside her, feeling her pulse again and placing a cool cloth against her forehead. A cup of the sweetest water she had ever tasted was placed to her lips before she could even ask for it. Naomi swallowed then whispered, "It will be soon now."

The Centauress nodded. "Tonight or tomorrow."

So soon. Her poor Bar. She would not come back to him, after all. She laid a bony hand on the healer's arm. "Please. Is it true that Aslan speaks to those who do not come forward for healing?"

"It is." Silence reigned for some time as the Centauress worked to make Naomi more comfortable. It was not until she had succeeded in coaxing Naomi to eat that she broke her silence. "Who would you ask Aslan to bless?"

"My Bar." Naomi smiled. "My poor Bar, he did not want me to come here. He wanted to keep seeking out cures. I want Aslan to remember my Bar, to comfort him and to give him a better wife." She caught a glimpse of the Centauress' sympathy but for a moment before her weakness overtook her and once again pulled her into a restless sleep.

She woke to a Voice. It was unlike any she had ever heard, golden, wild, and dangerous at the same time it was inviting, soothing, and welcoming. "Peace to you, My children. Do not let your hearts be troubled even when your circumstances are filled with trial for you are Mine. I do not forsake My own."

His. How wonderful it would be to be His, truly His.

"Though you stumble and your walk with Me is imperfect, know I am still with you. I do not abandon My own and I will wait for you to turn your faces to Me once more. Call to Me in your times of hardship. Lean on Me. Have I not known your name from the moment you were first knit in the womb or the egg? Do I not see you in all your days from the moment you are conceived to the moment you pass from this life? Take heart and be of good cheer, My beloved children."

Take heart. Oh she wanted to. She wanted to tell Bar to take heart. Aslan would not leave him.

"I will never leave you."

Naomi opened her eyes. He stood upon the Stone Table, golden and gloriously terrible with the sun illuminating Him merely extending the light that seemed to emanate from Him. But the sight of Him alone was not what held her transfixed. It was His eyes, golden and piercing. Her every sin was laid bare before Him. And yet He did not turn away in disgust. His golden gaze was filled with love like His voice as He purred, "I will never leave you."

She was unworthy of His mercy.

"You are Mine no matter how often you stumble. Call out to Me and I will answer."

Unworthy.

"You are Mine, beloved."

Shameful.

"Your past shame is gone. It is behind Me and I will not look for it. I have made you pure and I continue to refine you."

Oh how she wanted to be refined. How she wanted to be made perfect, made into someone worthy of His love.

"Take heart, dear ones. Take heart in your trials. Take heart for I am with you still."

How she must have disappointed him with her decisions and actions.

"You are Mine," came the rumbling reply. His voice sank into her and wrapped around her, urging her to cry out to Him and only to Him. "Do not fear, beloved. Do not fear to cast your cares, your hurts, your woes, and your shame on Me. For I will give you comfort. I will give you forgiveness. I will give you mercy. I will give you peace."

Peace. Mercy. Forgiveness. How she wanted them all. Naomi remained caught in the Lion's gaze. If He ever turned His head, it did not seem so to her. Instead, it was as though He looked only at her, spoke only to her. She listened to His words, basked in them as if they alone could heal her tired, worn body. Perhaps they could have. But still she did not ask for such healing.

By the time Aslan finished speaking, tears decorated Naomi's hollow cheeks. Perhaps she would die that night or on the morrow, but for the first time in what had been too long, she had peace in her heart. For the first time in a long time, she did not dwell on her unworthiness of Bar's love, of Aslan's love. For the first time in a long time, she did not despair or mourn. Even if she did not speak to Him, He had spoken to her.

She barely paid attention to the way Aslan moved among those in need of healing, who had dared to ask for His help. His words still resonated within her, stirring up hope. She would ask for Bar's sake, peace for her husband. The crown prince's words proved true. She watched as Aslan moved slowly down the hill, stopping to speak to those clamoring for His attention. And as she did so, a thought or perhaps it was a hope began to stir. If she but touched Him. Just His mane. She would be healed for He was that powerful. A tiny touch and she could bring the Great Lion's words to Bar herself. Just a tiny touch.

Another hour passed and she could feel her last strength begin to leave her. Naomi looked up and saw the Great Lion was almost upon her. She immediately ducked her head and the words she longed to speak stuck in her throat, defying her to say even a simple thank you for His gift of comfort, of peace. But hope would not be denied.

The sweet perfume surrounding her clung to His mane. Where the strength came from she did not know. All she could think was of how a simple touch could heal her. Stretching out her bony arm, Naomi's frail fingers brushed against His silky mane. She gasped then gasped again, this time deeper as she felt the change. Pain was replaced by warmth. The warmth caressed and encompassed her more surely than that of the sun or the warmest of comforters. Naomi took a breath deeper than she had in two years and raised her eyes.

Golden eyes bore into her. And He spoke, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Rise up and go home."

Home. Home to Bar. His gaze was compelling and Naomi suddenly found strength returning to her as she rose to her feet. Unsteady, but she was on her feet. And she felt no pain. The pain that had been her constant companion was gone. Oh. Naomi fell to her knees and kissed His paws, her tears dampening the golden fur. Her heart was so full that she still could not speak but she knew, she simply knew that He knew all the things, the feelings, the thoughts that she could not express save through tears and kisses.

Aslan leaned down and gave her a Lion's kiss. "Go home, Naomi. Return to Bar and show him that his prayers too have been answered. Go home and tell him what happened here and what you heard Me say."

Tears still coursing down her cheeks, Naomi could only nod. Yes, she would go home. She would go home to Bar. Thanks to Aslan.

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

**A/N: Please Read and Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't...

Summary: When the Daughter of Eve sought out Aslan, would He grant what she desired or maybe even more?

A/N: This story was requested by Scribe of Heroes and is part of my _A Light in the Darkness_ universe. This story is based on the suggestion for an expansion on the encounter between the Daughter of Eve and Aslan at the Stone Table originally described in _A Light in the Darkness: Veiled_. Enjoy!

**Daughter of Eve**

**Part Three: Home and Blessings**

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

He filled each day with as many tasks as he could, tasks that required all of his attention, but he had no such defense in the late watches. Naomi, oh his sweet lass. Every time someone approached the horse farm, fear and dread seized his heart, threatening to steal the faltering hope from his breast. Naomi would not survive the journey to Narnia, the healers had told him so, and in dark of night he wondered if he should not have kept his lass with him, so he could be with her in her last days.

Bar shook his head, leaning heavily against the corral post. No, he could not have stolen that last hope from her. "Oh Naomi. Aslan, hold her safe between Your paws even . . ." His voice cracked as it had not done since he was a lad. Bar cleared his throat and then continued gruffly, "Even if my sweet Naomi is in Your country now. Tell her I love her still."

He had asked the boys to bring Naomi back to him even if she perished in Narnia. It was foolish sentiment but he wanted Naomi to lie beneath the big oak tree where she had once coaxed him to picnics instead of training stubborn warhorses. Oh Aslan.

Bar shook his head again and then hefted the next post onto his shoulder, measuring out the paces to where he intended to extend the corral for the frisky colts not yet old enough for full training. The little white mare, whose large, intelligent eyes had first caught his attention, stuck her wedge-shaped head out of the barn window and whinnied. He had bought her from a Calormene trader on impulse a little over a sennight ago when he still held hope that Naomi would return to him.

The mare whinnied again and Bar sighed. She seemed to think anything she heard or saw or smelled was worth gaining his undivided attention. Normally, he would not mind lavishing a new horse and gently breaking her out of any bad habits but as the days dragged on, he could only feel despair as he waited for the news to come.

The wind blew and sighed, almost calling his name. "Bar!"

His head jerked up as the post fell to the ground.

"Bar!"

He whirled about to see a slight figure running toward him. The call came again. "Bar!"

"Naomi," he breathed, hardly daring to believe his eyes. The lass running toward him had mousy brown hair like his lass but it fell in thick curls blown about by the wind and her racing. The green dress certainly looked like one he had asked Cousin Elisabet to make up for Naomi after the healers had told them that her sickness had likely stolen any chance of children. But it no longer hung on an emaciated frame. Instead, it hugged a healthy if still slight figure. "Naomi," he repeated louder this time as he began to run toward her.

"Bar! Bar!"

"Naomi!" The powerful cry burst past his lips as he caught her up into his embrace. "Naomi." He stroked her hair, raining kisses on her between his incoherent mumblings of thanks. Aslan had heard his prayers, after all. He laughed then picked her up, whirling her around in a circle. "Naomi! Praise Aslan!"

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

Two years later . . .

Naomi watched as her husband put the even-tempered gelding through his paces. The horse was ever mindful of his burden. Naomi smiled to see their son laughing in childish delight as he observed the world from atop the gelding, not even noticing as his papa kept one broad hand at his back. Born nine months after she returned to Bar, their little Bard was a gift from Aslan as much as His gift of peace and words that had been shared with their family, their neighbors, and as many others as they came into contact with for the story of Naomi's healing was often spoken of in Archenland.

Bar stomped into the house, Bard perched on his shoulder, chubby hands buried in his papa's hair, and then gave her a kiss. "Hello, Mama, what have you been up to? Resting like the healers said, I hope."

She laughed. "I rested some but I also had to bake a cake for my two favorite lads."

"Cake! Mama cake! Papa cake!"

Now they both laughed and then Bar wrapped his arm around Naomi, leading her to the kitchen. "I suppose the wee babe wanted some too."

Naomi smiled, resting a hand on her gently rounded belly. When Bar's broad hand covered hers, she looked up at him. "Aslan has made me most blessed among women for He healed my body and my heart."

ӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁӁ

The End

**A/N: Please Read and Review! **


End file.
